


The Other Adam

by Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew)



Series: The Other Adam [1]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Disabled Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 13:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseafrew/pseuds/Chelsea%20Frew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this AU, Adam has suffered a permanent brain injury. Kris pays frequent visits to Adam, and this is a chronicle of one of those visits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Adam

**Author's Note:**

> My deepest thanks to Cori Lannam for her encouragement, support, and editing. I could never have written them without her!!

It was both Kris' favorite and his least favorite day of the week.

As he pulled into the drive, he went through his usual mental preparations. He knew if he didn't get himself ready properly, he'd be a wreck by the end. No matter how many times he'd done this, it never got any easier.

After a few final deep breaths, Kris was about as prepared as he was going to get. He turned off the car and walked with purpose to the front door, ringing the bell once he got there.

As always, Leila answered the door with a smile. "Kris!" Like she didn't expect him to come. Like he could stay away.

He offered her a warm hug.

When she let him go, she said, "He's waiting in the living room."

Kris nodded and smiled back at her. When he went to move past her into the house, she stopped him with a touch of her hand on his hand. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Thank you, Kris," she told him, as she always did. "This means the world to him. And me."

He nodded again. "Me, too." Now, she let him go by.

He walked into the living room slowly, quietly. He wanted to look first, without being seen.

Adam was on the floor in between his well-worn trunk and the coffee table. All of his attention was focused on the piece of paper sitting at an angle on the table in front of him. A haphazard pile of crayons and colored pencils was scattered over the rest of the table top. Adam held a brown crayon in his hand, using it to create something on the piece of paper. The tip of his tongue peeked out of the right side of his mouth as he concentrated on his task.

One of the hardest things about all of this was that Adam still looked like Adam. They had talked about letting his hair return to its natural strawberry blond, but everyone agreed that would just be too weird. This turned out to be a great decision. Adam still loved getting his hair done, and when he was able to voice an opinion, he said he liked it dark. So dark it still was. It bore the same cut Adam had always favored, although now it was much more simply styled, hanging gently over his eyes as he worked.

Adam wore no makeup, so from where Kris stood at the door, Adam's freckles stood out in stark relief against his pale skin. Kris had seen him without makeup often enough, however, for that part not to be all that odd.

Other than the gauges in his ears that they'd left alone, Adam wore no jewelry. Not yet, anyway. He was dressed for a quiet day at home in jeans and his favorite Queen t-shirt. Kris could imagine them snuggling up on the couch to watch a movie, making it about fifteen minutes before they were making out.

He firmly shook the image out of his head. That kind of thinking was going to get him nowhere fast.

He watched Adam for a few seconds more before finally clearing his throat, alerting Adam to his audience.

Adam's head spun around immediately. He dropped the crayon and rose to his bare feet, a huge smile on his face. "Kris!" He wasted no time in moving to wrap Kris up in a hug. Kris returned it warmly and without reservation. 

When Adam let go, Kris matched his grin. "Hi, Adam. How're you doing today?"

"Good," Adam responded.

After a beat of silence, Kris gestured toward the coffee table. "What were you working on?"

Adam instantly took Kris' hand to drag him toward the coffee table. "Come look!"

When they got to the table, Adam dropped back to his knees, so Kris followed suit.

"It's almost done," Adam explained, pushing his work over so it was right in front of Kris.

Kris' breath caught in his throat when he focused on Adam's art.

"It's you," Adam explained further.

That part was actually obvious. The figure in the picture was on a stage with a guitar. Adam had put Kris in a brown and red plaid shirt and jeans with holes in them. His hair was brown and drawn just as it was now, cut just around his ears. In the picture, Kris was mid-strum on his guitar, mouth poised at a microphone to sing. Little circles in front of the line that defined the stage were, Kris assumed, audience members. Kris' band wasn't in the picture, which was probably significant, but he didn't have time now to contemplate how. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Adam's smile beginning to fade.

"Don't you like it?" Adam asked softly.

"Are you kidding?" Kris answered brightly. "I love it! Do I get to keep it?"

"It's not done yet," Adam pointed out.

"Well, when it is, I'd love to have it," Kris clarified. "I want to put it up at my house."

Adam beamed.

"Do you want to finish it now?"

Adam shook his head.

"Okay, but you need to finish it soon because I can't wait to have it on display."

"Okay," Adam amiably agreed.

"So. What did you want to do this afternoon?" There were several possibilities. It all depended upon Adam's mood.

Adam fell silent while he considered his options. After about a minute, he made a decision, asking, "Can we play with the trunk?"

Kris smiled. He should have guessed. "Of course. Go ahead. Open it."

With a huge grin on his face, Adam swiveled around to open the trunk behind him. He immediately began to sort through the contents, digging for what he wanted.

Kris just waited patiently until Adam triumphantly pulled a glittery jacket from the trunk, handing it over to Kris. "For me?" Kris checked.

Adam gave a quick nod before resuming his search. His next find was a leather jacket with more buckles on it than Kris wanted to count. Adam grinned wide and shrugged the jacket on.

An image of Adam pulling together virtually the same outfit for a performance flitted unbidden through Kris's mind. He willfully pushed the mental picture away and put on the jacket Adam had handed him. It was too big for him, but wrapping himself in it was comforting in a way that was hard to put into words.

Adam was already sifting through the things in the trunk for something new. It wasn't long before he pulled out a gray knit cap. He held it out to Kris, but, shaking his head, Kris said, "No. You."

Agreeably, Adam fitted the cap onto his head, then visually checked with Kris for approval. The sight took Kris' breath away. It was like traveling back in time.

Once again, he was pulled from his mental trip. This time, he didn't bring himself back. He was brought back by Adam, who asked, "What's wrong, Kris?"

Kris shook his head. "Nothing."

Adam narrowed his eyes. "I think you're lying."

"You need to find me a hat, Adam," Kris responded, desperate to dodge Adam's accusation. "And not the top hat again, even if it would go with this jacket. I am not a top hat kind of guy."

If Kris thought he could distract Adam that easily, he was sorely mistaken. Adam shook his head. "No."

"No? You want my head to be cold?"

His evasion tactics were not remotely successful. With a sad look on his face, Adam told him, "I know what's wrong."

Kris sighed. There was no avoiding this conversation. His only hope was that Adam was misreading the situation. Warily, he asked, "What do you think is wrong?"

"You miss him." Adam was not misreading anything, Kris realized. It felt like stones were settling in the bottom of his stomach.

Kris said one more prayer that Adam was off base, then inquired, "Who?"

"The other Adam," Adam whispered, his voice filled with sadness.

The first word that came into Kris' head was "shit," but he didn't say that aloud. Instead, he put out a hand, placing it gently on Adam's forearm. "Adam, no."

Adam yanked his arm away. "Yes, you do," he insisted, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. "You want him, not me."

Thing of it was, Adam was not wrong. Kris would have given just about anything to turn back time. However, since the laws of physics were working against him on that one, he'd take what he could get, so incredibly grateful it wasn't worse.

It would take all of Kris' powers of persuasion to convince Adam that he was wanted. Wanted, loved, treasured. Adam knew that once upon a time he'd been different. Completely unexpectedly, not long after coming home, he'd caught Leila watching an old interview Adam had done right after American Idol had ended. Adam had recognized himself and had asked Leila all kinds of questions.

Leila had explained to him that before his accident, he'd been a singer. A famous singer who had been on television and made cds. Adam had been equal parts fascinated and distressed. The man he'd been before had been shiny and glittery--intoxicatingly intriguing. But upon seeing video of his prior self, Adam had definitive evidence of all he'd lost, of all his family and friends had lost.

Friends like Kris. Adam didn't know the specific details of what he and Kris had been to each other before he'd been hurt. He just knew that Kris loved him and came every week to visit. He had never questioned anything where Kris was concerned. Until now. Apparently Adam had understood more than anyone had given him credit for.

Kris' deliberations over how to handle this situation had given Adam's anxiety quite the head of steam. He stood up suddenly, directed a look of unbridled hurt down at Kris, then left the room. Footsteps crashing up the stairs told Kris Adam had retreated to his room.

Kris wasted no time hauling himself up to follow. Leila waylaid him at the bottom of the stairs.

"What happened?" she asked, casting a worried look upstairs in the direction her son had gone.

Kris sighed helplessly. "I screwed up. He put on this outfit from the trunk that was just like one he wore for a charity event we did and…. He must have seen something on my face. I didn't mean…," he trailed off when Leila reached out to grasp his forearms.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Kris," she assured him. "This is hard on all of us."

Kris sat down on the nearest step, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. After a moment, he pulled in a deep breath, looked up, and told her, "He said I wanted the other Adam."

Leila sucked in a quick breath, shock evident on her face.

"He's right, Leila," Kris went on. "I do miss him."

Leila eased herself down on the step two below Kris'. She put her hand on his knee. "Me, too, Kris. I miss him, too."

Kris breathed in deeply again, then exhaled slowly. "I have to talk to him."

Leila nodded. "I'll be right here if either of you needs me."

Laying his hand on top of where hers rested on his knee, he squeezed gratefully. "Okay." With no further hesitation, he stood and walked up the stairs.

Adam's room was the second one on the right on the second floor. Adam had not shut the door when he'd come up, and Kris could hear Adam's voice as he approached the doorway. He stood just outside to listen for a moment.

"You're a good boy, Spike. I love you just the way you are. You're my best friend. Later today, we can go for a walk. When we get back, we can watch a movie. Maybe we can watch _Hotel for Dogs_. You liked that movie. Maybe Mom will make cookies for us to have as a snack. We'll have a good time, Spike. Just you and me."

Spike was a stuffed dog Allison had given Adam while he was still in the hospital. He was a golden retriever big enough to really hug. This turned out to be just about the best gift anyone could have given him. Adam loved Spike, and in the toy dog, Adam found someone totally non-judgmental to talk to. Adam used Spike to comfort himself when he was upset, so it was not a surprise to Kris to hear Adam talking to him now.

Kris cleared his throat loudly as he entered the room. This wasn't a surprise attack. Adam got silent the minute he heard Kris come in 

Kris found Adam sitting on the floor at the end of his bed, Spike in his lap. He did not look up at Kris as he crossed the threshold of his room.

"Adam?" Kris started. "Can I come in?"

Adam didn't answer, but neither did he decline, so Kris took the non-response as permission. He moved to seat himself on the floor next to Adam, careful not to touch, but close enough that he could if Adam allowed it.

For a moment, Kris just sat there quietly, giving Adam time to adjust to his presence. Adam just petted Spike, ignoring Kris as best he could.

Eventually, however, Kris needed to get the conversation underway. He cleared his throat again. "Adam, I'm sorry."

"You lied," Adam repeated his earlier accusation, gaze firmly on Spike.

"What do you think I lied about?" Kris wanted no ambiguity, but kept his tone soft and as non-threatening as he could.

Finally, Adam looked up at Kris, eyes watery. "You miss him, and you told me you don't, but you do."

Adam's words tore right through Kris' heart, and he felt tears spring to his own eyes. Quickly, though, he schooled himself and pulled in a deep, calming breath. "Adam? I want you to listen very carefully, okay?"

Adam stopped looking at Kris, directing his eyes toward Spike once more, but he murmured, "Okay," even if the word was filled with reluctance.

Kris chose his words carefully. "I've loved you since the day I met you, Adam. You were the kindest, gentlest, most beautiful person I had ever met. And that hasn't changed. You are still the same person I have loved all this time."

Adam shook his head violently. "No, I'm not. I'm not him. He was smart. He could sing really well. He got on TV. Everybody loved him. He could do lots and lots of things I can't."

Kris wished he had known just how aware Adam was of all that had changed since the accident. They could have had this conversation a long time ago. Then they would not have to be having it now. He sighed, and he decided to try a different tack.

"Adam, do you remember what we told you about the accident?" he asked.

Adam nodded.

"What?" He needed to know how much Adam actually recalled.

Adam looked up at Kris as he recited, "I was in the car. Another car hit me, and my car rolled over." Three times, Kris mentally added.

Kris nodded encouragingly. "What else?"

"I was hurt really bad, and I was in a coma for a long time." Two months, to be exact.

"That's right."

"When I woke up, I wasn't the same. I had to learn lots of stuff again." Adam remembered the learning, Kris knew, but he did not remember the drunk asshole who'd forced his car off the road and down the hill. He knew what had happened because he'd been told. He'd only lived with the aftermath.

Adam had left out the most significant part, though. "You almost died," Kris reminded him. "We almost lost you." Even now, months later, the mere thought of how close Adam had come to death still had the power to make Kris shudder.

Adam didn't say anything. He just eyed Kris warily.

"I have never prayed so much in my entire life," Kris admitted. "They told us so many times that you weren't going to make it. One night they even told us--me, your mom and dad, and Neil--to say goodbye. But I couldn't."

"Why?" Adam asked guilelessly.

"I guess I wasn't ready to let you go. And then I didn't have to, because you weren't ready to go either."

"But I'm not the same," Adam insisted once more.

Finally, Kris acquiesced. "No, you're not. And it makes me just as sad as it does you." When Adam opened his mouth to utter what Kris assumed was an "I told you so," Kris went on. "But I'm grateful, too."

"Why?"

"Because you're still here," Kris stated simply.

"But I'm different." Adam's persistence was actually not so different.

"Not in the ways that matter," Kris told him.

The look on Adam's face told Kris he needed to elaborate. He was happy to comply. "You are the kindest person I know. You never say anything mean to anyone. Not even when they are mean to you." And plenty of people still were, just in different ways than before.

Adam shrugged. "It's not nice to be mean."

"You're right. It's not." He paused for a moment before going on. "You are always so creative. Before, that may have come out in the form of music. Now, though, it's through beautiful art like the picture you drew of me I can't wait to hang up in my house."

Kris was thrilled to see Adam blush at the praise.

"From the moment we met, there was no one I wanted to hang out with more than you," Kris told him honestly.

The look on Adam's face was slightly skeptical. "Really, truly?"

Kris nodded. "Really, truly. I'd rather be with you than with anyone else."

"Even now?" Adam asked cautiously.

"Even now," Kris assured him.

Skeptical look still on his face, Adam inquired, "Are you sure?"

Kris smiled. "Absolutely, positively sure." It was easy to say; it was completely the truth.

"But you do miss him?" Adam checked, clearly not quite ready to let that thought go.

Kris was not going to lie. "I do. And I know that you're sad sometimes to know you're different. But just because I miss the person you used to be, it doesn't mean I don't love you and love being with you the way you are now. Trust me, I wouldn't come to visit if I didn't."

Adam took a moment to silently contemplate Kris' words. Kris held his breath until Adam said, "Okay."

Kris said a silent prayer of thanks to God, then impulsively leaned over to kiss Adam's forehead. When he leaned back, he appraised Adam carefully. "Hey, where'd your hat and jacket go?"

Adam pointed to a spot near the door, and Kris swiveled his head to look where Adam indicated. The jacket of buckles was crumpled just inside the doorway, the knit hat precariously balanced on top.

"That hat looks like it's about to fall. And is that any way to treat such a pretty jacket?" Kris looked back at Adam.

"No," Adam admitted, shaking his head.

"Then what do you say you rescue them, and we head back down so you can find me a fabulous hat to go with this fabulous jacket you found me?"

Adam smiled sweetly. "Okay." He stood up and carefully placed Spike on the bed before moving to pick up his jacket and hat. He put the hat on first, then pulled on the jacket, looking at Kris to make sure he was getting up.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Kris promised, following Adam out of the room.

At the top of the stairs, he stopped Adam with a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Adam, did I hear you promise Spike some cookies? How can I get in on that action?"

Adam's answering grin was ear to ear as he raced ahead of Kris down the stairs.

End (9 May 2010)


End file.
